


The art of letting go

by Adoravel_Fenomeno



Series: KitTy one-shot AUs [4]
Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Wicked Powers Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist and Muse, Artists, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Model!Kit, Painter!Ty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adoravel_Fenomeno/pseuds/Adoravel_Fenomeno
Summary: Greater than his inability for art was Kit’s inability for life in general.He had never been an artsy person—no, on the contrary. He was practical, systematic. Get up, get some money, go to bed. That was what his dad had taught him to do, by any means necessary.When he saw himself as a life drawing model, he knew he must’ve done something wrong with his life....In which Ty is an artist, and Kit is his muse. Because of one picture, Livvy seems to think they're dating, and Ty doesn't want to tell her the truth. People should really stop stealing his phone.
Relationships: Livia Blackthorn & Tiberius Blackthorn & Kit Rook, Tiberius Blackthorn/Kit Rook
Series: KitTy one-shot AUs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876717
Comments: 17
Kudos: 89





	The art of letting go

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, back at it again with another AU
> 
> (Tiny reminder that this is the fourth part of a series where I’ll be posting KitTy one-shot AUs twice a week. The next one will be up on Wednesday!)
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing❤️❤️❤️

Greater than his inability for art was Kit’s inability for life in general.

He had never been an artsy person—no, on the contrary. He was practical, systematic. Get up, get some money, go to bed. That was what his dad had taught him to do, by any means necessary.

When he saw himself as a life drawing model, he knew he must’ve done something wrong with his life.

His dad had an antique shop. A very good one, in fact. Kit had always worked hard so that he could, one day, be part of it. However, when his dad got in a scandal of counterfeit pieces and the shop sank in debt, there wasn’t much that Kit could do. There was even less when his dad got in a car accident and passed away, blood all over the asphalt.

The flyer about a job prospect in a figure-drawing cafe looked like a gift from heaven, and Kit would be stupid not to take it.

Sure, he had never thought it would be quite so difficult either.

The poses were drawn out for too long, his muscles aching in the scrunched position. But, then, he learned how to stretch before and after sessions. 

The payment wasn’t that good, hardly covered all he needed to buy. So he moved to an even cheaper apartment that he shared with four other people, and took advantage of the access he had to his dad’s bank account. 

He was self-conscious of the nudity he had to perform, at first. But it wasn’t every night, and, who cared, anyway? It was just for art.

So he learned how to cope with it.

However, that didn’t mean he was used to people drawing him outside of his modeling sessions. 

The boy in front of him in the cafe watched his every move, cataloging and transferring it to paper. Kit tried to lean in to get a better look at his work, but the boy’s hunched posture covered his whole sketchbook.

Kit had listened to enough art students talk about how they liked to go to public places to draw people acting normally, living their usual lives. He had never thought it would be that creepy.

“Are you drawing me?” he asked the boy, hoping his headphones wouldn’t prevent him from hearing.

The boy looked back at him, his dark hair falling on his eyes. “You have some interesting poses.” His voice was quiet and soft, like every stereotypical shy artist Kit had met. It was almost laughable how used he was to that kind of situation.

“I’ve been told that before, yes.”

He tried to lean in to see his sketches, but the boy quickly covered them with his hands. Not a show-off, then. Kit imagined that, if he was an artist, he wouldn’t be either.

“I’m Kit.”

The boy nodded. “Ty.”

He got up from his chair and took one of the pens in Ty’s pencil case, scribbling his number on a napkin thrown around.

“So, Ty, if you ever need me for more modeling, here’s my number. I also work here, in the figure drawing classes every Wednesday.”

He widened his eyes. “So you’re an actual—”

“Model, yes.” He slid the napkin to Ty while circling back the table to get his jacket. “And you can also call me if you need me for… Something else.” He winked at him. Trying wouldn’t hurt, anyway.

He flashed a grin and left through the glass doors of the cafe. He hoped his dad would be proud that he had at least gotten another job prospect.

…

Draped on the ratty couch of his shared apartment, the last thing Kit expected was a message from Ty saying ‘r u free this saturday???’

Kit couldn’t lie, it did not seem like the way that shy boy would act. But, again, Kit could be stereotyping him a little bit.

He paused the movie he was watching on Netflix—something with way too many explosions and unnecessary soft porn scenes—to stare at his phone and think for a second.

Would it be nice for him to get paid something extra than what the cafe gave him? Sure. 100%. But would it be comfortable to be naked in a private session? Probably not.

He swallowed his itchiness. Money was money, and it would be better for him to learn to deal with that kind of vulnerability as quickly as possible. Or maybe just get another job.

He pushed his thoughts away to type out ‘Yeah, I am. Do you wanna meet me at the cafe again?’ while he still had his nerve.

It would be better like that.

…

Kit had been sitting at his usual table for a couple of minutes when Ty arrived.

“I have a work proposal for you,” he said as he sat in front of Kit. “I have an art exhibit in a month, but no artwork to submit.”

Kit suppressed his urge to make a snarky remark on how artists rarely had anything done. He didn’t want to be unpleasant.

“Sorry, Ty, I only do fake IDs, not falsify paintings. I might know a guy, though.”

 _Yeah, Kit_ , he thought to himself. _Nailed it_.

Ty scrunched his face and shook his head. “No, I don’t want a fake painting. I want a muse.”

“A muse,” Kit repeated with amusement. “Not a model, a muse.”

“I don’t need human references, I’m good at anatomy by myself. I’ve been struggling with creativity, though.” Ty didn’t look at him in the eyes, only to some point behind his shoulder. Kit tried not to turn back to look at it. “For that, I’ll need you to actually work with me. You know, not just a few sessions, but actually work with me.”

Kit laughed. That wasn't the strangest thing he was ever asked to do, but it was up there. “I suppose I’m gonna get paid for this, right?” That was all that mattered, anyway.

Ty nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. You’ll spend a lot of time with me, so we can adjust a price that’ll work for both of us.”

“A muse,” he repeated again, still not believing it. “Sure, when do we start?”

…

Ty’s apartment was a mess. Not a mess in the sense of disorganized as a rule, but a mess as in he could see that there was a system for everything, and, at that moment, the system had been taken down to put paint brushes and pencils in its place.

The walls were covered with blank canvases, tubes of oil paint and watercolor thrown in the ground, reference pictures and model apples all over the floor, all in contrast to the carefully folded blanket on top of the couch and the books in the shelf organized by color.

Kit sat on the stool right in front of Ty’s easel. Ty was also sitting in his stool. They stared at each other for a couple seconds. Kit wasn’t sure what to do. He took off his jacket, expecting that would be enough.

“So, how do you want me?” he asked and immediately winced. He really didn’t know how not to make it awkward.

“You can stay like this for now,” said Ty as he twisted his wrists. “I’m just warming up.”

As it turned out, staying quiet as he sat on a stool staring at the wall was even worse than being naked in the middle of a cafe.

“So, you’ve been struggling with creativity, huh?” Kit tried to start a conversation.

Ty just gave a non-committal grunt.

“I’ve never been creative. Like, never. At anything.”

Ty didn’t even bother to answer that one.

“I’m also a pretty shitty model, actually. I had a lot of artists come and tell me that.”

“Is it because you talk too much?”

Ah. Ty knew how to speak, then.

“Fuck you. I’m trying to be nice here.”

“And I’m trying to draw your face, but it’s kinda hard when you don’t shut up.”

“Wasn’t this supposed to be, like, a subject study? Weren’t I supposed to be your muse? Because this looks like a regular modeling job to me.”

Not that Kit knew. He had never been in a private session.

“Fine.” Ty huffed and put his pencil down. “What do you wanna do?”

“I dunno. Talk, I guess.”

He awkwardly slid down his stool, moving to sit on the floor. Ty did stare him with a weirded out face, but soon joined him on the ground. For some reason, it felt more truthful, that way.

“What do you wanna talk about?”

“Whatever comes to mind,” said Kit. “It just needs to be honest. Maybe we could ask questions about each other.”

“You start.”

Kit nodded, searching in his mind for something interesting to ask. “How has the art block been going?”

Ty grunted and laid on the ground. _At least he got the spirit_ , Kit thought.

“I can’t do anything. It has been months since my last painting.”

“Do you know what’s causing it? Maybe it’s overexertion. Or perfectionism.” Ty did seem the perfectionist kind.

“I thought it was because I had just moved to another city, and I wasn’t used to this environment. Soon I would be painting again.”

“But it isn’t that.”

“Painting didn’t come back to me as I thought it would. It didn’t come at all. It’s like my mind is a barren field of dead creativity, blank with static. Numb in the most unpleasant way.”

Kit would like to point out how dramatic he was being, but he knew it would be too much hypocrisy.

“Do you think having a muse will help?”

“Sure.” Ty turned to lay on his stomach and face Kit. “It’s already helping.”

He smiled. “I’m glad.”

For a second, Ty smiled back, but soon plopped onto the floor again. “Okay, my turn. What’s your favorite book?”

“Probably the X-Men comics.”

“I don’t think comics count.”

“Of course they count.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s literary elitism.”

Ty ignored him. “Mine is Sherlock Holmes. Have you ever read it?” Of course it was. Like the posters adorning the walls weren’t enough to give him a clue.

“Nope. But I did watch the BBC TV show.”

Ty didn’t seem too pleased with his answer. “It doesn’t count either.”

Kit laughed and shook his head. “Are you going to say all my answers don’t count?”

“If you keep giving me dumb ones, yes.”

“Okay.” Kit tried to come up with something else to ask him, something he could have the high ground on. “What would you do if you weren’t an artist?”

“I would be a photographer.”

“See, that doesn’t count! Photographers are just another kind of artist.”

“But photography and painting are completely different.”

“Not that much.”

“Of course they—”

“It doesn’t count to me.” At Ty’s annoyed face, he started laughing again. He threw his head back, and something caught his eye on the way up. “Wait— What’s that?” He laid on the ground next to Ty and pointed at the ceiling.

The pictures glued to the ceiling were falling off, but the images were visible—stars, the milky way, a bunch of similar people smiling together, and some sunny beaches.

“It’s an exact copy of the one in my old house. Livvy, my twin, had glued them in our bedroom when we were children. When I moved here, she wanted me to have something familiar.”

Kit smiled. “That’s cute.”

“It is.”

They stared at the images silently for a few seconds, and soon Ty opened up again.

“I do miss home, in L.A.”

“Then why don’t you move back?”

He sighed. “That’s what Livvy’s been telling me, too. But I can’t, Kit, I can’t. I know being here is the right thing to do.”

Kit propped up on his elbows, looking down at Ty. For the first time, he realized he had beautiful steel-gray eyes.

“You know, Ty,” he said, “I have no idea what you mean.”

…

Their third meetup happened not too many days after their second. Ty had said that the ideal would be meeting up every day, but neither of them had the time or energy for that.

Kit took his time walking to Ty’s apartment, observing everything surrounding him. It was around 5 p.m., the sun was starting to dissolve into shades of orange and yellow, and the city looked three times prettier.

Ty was already seated on his chair scribbling half-hearted thumbnails. Kit leaned in to see them, but Ty covered the paper with his hands.

“Don’t.”

“But why?” Kit whined. “You’re drawing me and I can’t even see it. It’s unfair.”

Ty rolled his eyes and got back to drawing. Kit sat on his stool without further complaining.

Eventually, both got tired of sitting and staring at each other—not that staring at Ty was a bad experience. It really wasn’t—and sat on the ground to talk like they had been doing since day one.

“Why don’t you let me look at your work?” Kit asked first.

Ty stayed in silence for a few seconds, his beautiful grey eyes sweeping through every inch of the apartment but Kit’s face. “It has been a long time since I painted the way I’ve been painting.”

Kit wasn’t sure what that meant. He decided it didn’t matter, asking would just ruin the rawness of Ty’s answer.

“Okay,” Ty said, breaking the silence. “What’s your full name?”

“Boring. Christopher Jonathan Rook. Yours?”

“Tiberius Nero Blackthorn.”

Kit heaved a laugh. “Wait. You’re serious.”

“I wanted to see if you had it as bad as me.”

He hummed.“Your turn.”

“What did you truly expect out of our ‘getting to know the subject’ sessions?”

“Ah, you know.” Kit propped himself up on his elbow, looking at Ty through his eyelashes. “Maybe experimenting a bit more.”

He had a lot of ideas on how Ty could get to know him.

His gaze moved to Ty’s lips, moving a few inches closer. Kit wasn’t sure whether he should kiss him or not.

He wanted to, that was certain. Ty was beautiful, kind, and smart. And Kit supposed he was a great artist, too, if he ever let him see his work.

But was it right? That was his job, one of his sources of income. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he lost it.

As Kit got closer, he could see all the details he supposed artists fawned over—the exact curve of Ty’s lips, how his nose was slightly turned upwards, the cut of his jaw, and how it connected to his long neck.

Ty’s breath got heavier, and his hands started shaking. Kit wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

It shouldn’t be. It really shouldn’t.

But Kit was way too close already. Way too close, almost touching. 

Ty’s phone was really close to him. Kit could bet he was able to get it without Ty noticing. In fact, Ty’s eyes were closed. He definitely could get it.

A cold thrill passed through his ribcage, his skin felt hot. He was way too close, they were almost touching, almost... 

And then a flash noise resounded in his ears.

Turning his head, Ty looked at Kit’s extended arm. He internally winced. Was that a good save? He wasn’t sure. What mattered at that moment was that he had to roll with it. Without hesitation.

“That’s what I really call getting to know the subject, mister artist.” Kit twisted his hand to show Ty the picture. “Hey, maybe you could paint that.”

Sure, that was good enough.

He got back to looking at the phone, waiting for Ty, who was paralyzed on the ground, to have any sort of reaction.

Ty didn’t. At least, not for the first minute, which was enough for Kit to set up the picture as Ty's lock-screen.

Then, Ty snatched his phone back from Kit’s hands.

“Hey!” Kit complained. “I was doing something there.”

“You’re not anymore.” He slid it in his pocket, his expression still a bit shocked. “And I think we’re done here.”

Kit looked at him, scared. Had he gone too far?

“Right.” He got up and took his jacket. “Goodbye, then.” Kit waved his hand before closing the door behind him.

God, he really fucked up.

…

Kit decided to completely ignore what had happened, and, for their following meetups, he succeeded.

Ty did seem to get a bit shyer and skittish around him, but, besides that, not much had changed.

As time went on, Kit started noticing Ty had become looser in his drawings. He hoped he was a part of the progress. The strokes, the lines—graphite scratching the paper and creating muscles, tendons, eyelashes, and blushing cheeks. 

After Ty picked up the pace, every line was fluid, like it was dancing out of his hands.

“When was the last time you dated?” Kit asked, almost cowering. But it shouldn’t be a weird question to make, right? It was completely normal. If Ty reacted weird, it would be on him, because the question had no second intentions in itself.

“I ended my last relationship… almost six months ago, actually.”

“Wow.” Kit raised his eyebrows and leaned back on his chair, pretending nonchalance. He hoped it worked. “That’s recent. Was it a bad break up?”

“In what sense?”

“Ah, you know.” Kit shrugged, not sure of what to say. His only relationship role models were on TV, and everybody there knew breakups weren’t true if they weren’t loud. “Did you break up in a fight?”

“No.” Ty seemed to reconsider. “But I would define it as bad, though. We had dated for like… five years. And we know each other since we were children.”

“I'm so sorry.” Kit felt awkward in that chair. He didn’t know what to say. He was way too socially inept for that.

“And you? When was your last relationship?”

“I’ve never actually dated anyone.”

Ty raised his head to look over the easel. Kit had to fake nonchalance one more time. It was getting harder and harder to look cool those days.

“Never?” 

“Nope,” Kit confirmed, hoping that the disbelief came from a place of thinking he was too cute not to be dating anyone, and not from judgment. “Can I see your paintings now?”

Kit always asked that. Ty always said no.

But, that time, he sighed, “Which one do you wanna see? I’m not showing you them all.”

So, Kit answered, “Can you make one for me?”

Ty seemed a bit shocked by the request. “What do you want me to do?”

“Something you like.”

Ty nodded and set himself to work.

…

In their seventh meetup, Ty showed him the painting he had done for him. Unsurprisingly enough, it was the two of them dressed as Sherlock and Watson, the dark London streets behind their bodies as they ran.

Kit looked ridiculous in those outfits, his coat flying behind him. It was funny how Ty managed to accurately represent his awkwardness in the canvas. Ty himself, though, looked beautiful in his Sherlock deerstalker.

Because the real-life Ty did actually look beautiful.

Smudges of paint stained his shirt, his fingers, and a part of his neck where he had scratched it. His hair disheveled hair looked like the perfect example of a chaotic artist. His grey eyes shined with joy, and his hands shook slightly by his side. Truly beautiful.

A soft instrumental song interrupted his thoughts. Ty looked down at his phone and muttered ‘Livvy’ before picking up.

“Hello?”

Kit couldn’t hear the answer.

But he had heard enough about Livvy. Ty adored her. Apparently, she didn’t want to leave L.A. that much, but did it anyway, because Ty had wanted to. Kit could appreciate anyone that had that type of commitment to his friend.

However, Ty never let him talk to her. When she went to his apartment, Ty sent Kit away. When he went out to have coffee with her, he never invited Kit. So Kit was curious.

In the middle of Livvy’s talking, he got up and snatched the phone away from Ty’s hands.

“Livia, is that you?” he asked.

“Who is this?”

Ty tried to get his phone back, but he already had an extended hand to prevent him from getting closer. 

“It’s Kit, Ty’s _muse_.”

Livvy laughed on the other line. “Oh my god, this is so good. Ty never lets me talk to you, and, believe me, I’ve tried.”

“How about we meet tonight?”

On the energy of pure despair, Ty managed to get past Kit’s arm and steal the phone back, immediately hanging up the call.

“Dude, why did you do that? Now she’s gonna think that I hung up on her.” Kit sat back down on the chair, a smile creeping up on his face.

Ty kept staring at him, his eyes widened and his grip on the phone stronger than it should be. “Did you just agree to meet my sister?”

Kit nodded.

“No, you can’t meet her.”

“What do you mean?” Kit’s voice went up a few octaves. “C’mon, you talk so much about her, I just wanted to know what she’s like. I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just—” Ty seemed nervous, and he really didn’t know what to do. Was the idea of him meeting Livvy that bad? “My sister thinks I’m dating you,” he sputtered.

Oh. Oh, so that was… That was certainly something.

Ty sat back in front of the easel as if waiting for Kit’s reaction.

“And you don’t want to tell her the truth?” he asked, trying to be gentle about it.

“No,” Ty sighed. “She was so happy for me, she saw the picture you took of both of us. Unprompted, if you ask me, but I... I couldn’t— I couldn’t disappoint her again.”

Silence fell over them. Kit was petrified in position. He had no idea of how people were supposed to react to that information.

“Well, if I’m going to be your boyfriend, don’t you think it would be way too disrespectful not to meet her?”

He hoped that was the right way.

Ty seemed scandalized by that. Maybe it wasn’t the right way.

“Would you do that for me? Like, pretend to… Pretend to be dating me?”

“Sure!” Kit grinned. Oh, that would be so good. “It seems fun.”

“Thank god,” he sighed in relief. “I wouldn’t know what to do, I… You know, you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Livvy.”

“What do you mean?” From what Kit remembered, it was pretty much his idea to offer his modeling services to Ty.

“Well, I wouldn’t have texted you back. She stole my phone and did it for me. She does that, sometimes. Steal my phone, I mean. I don’t really like it.”

And didn’t that explain everything?

Kit couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Why would she do that?”

“She wanted me to expand my horizons or something.” Ty shrugged. “Plus, I pretty much coerced her to move from L.A. just so I could be an artist, and I wasn’t drawing anything. She was the one to get me the art exhibit too. It’s in her college.”

“Why did you think that moving from L.A. would make you a better artist?” In his belief, L.A. was a great place to do art. Wasn’t the biggest animation school in Los Angeles? He was pretty sure he heard some random artists say that once.

Ty shrugged. “I needed to get away. You know, I think I spent too much time there. I had become too dependant.”

Kit wanted to argue that of course he was dependant. It was his hometown, his family. Dependency wasn’t always bad.

But then he remembered Ty saying that he hadn’t been drawing for five months, almost six. And that he had left L.A. five months ago, almost six. And that he had broken up with his ex-boyfriend, Anush, five months before, almost six.

So he decided to shut the fuck up, for once.

…

The night was beautiful. No clouds in the sky, just an endless lagoon of stars.

They had chosen a restaurant not too far away to meet Livvy. Ty had said they had been there once before, and it wasn’t bad.

When they arrived, Livvy was already sat at one of the tables in the corner. She waved excitedly at them, and jogged up with her arms open, ready to hug Kit.

At every step she took, Kit could feel Ty’s breathing getting harder and quicker. Since they entered the restaurant, his hands had been shaking incessantly by his sides, his headphones wrapped around his ears.

Livvy seemed to notice that too, forgetting Kit’s hug to rub Ty’s hands instead.

“Is everything okay?” she muttered to him, looking around.

Kit supposed the restaurant was packed enough. Ty had told him he didn’t like that, that it felt like glass breaking in his head. So did the overbearing lights, which the establishment really didn’t do a great job on.

Plus, having his fake boyfriend meet his sister for the first time also couldn’t have been a calming situation.

Livvy guided him outside, Kit following right behind them. 

As they stepped into the street, Ty seemed to calm down gradually.

“Maybe we could go to his place and order something?” she offered to Kit.

“Sounds great.”

Arriving at the apartment, Livvy wouldn’t stop gaping and taking pictures of all the painted canvases and sketched papers lying around. Most of them were of Kit—lying down, smiling, laughing at some dumb joke he himself had made. But a few of them were of other things—clouds, Livvy’s pink and battered phone case, the one corner of the cafe where they had met.

“This is so good, Ty-Ty,” Livvy said as a huge grin took over her face. “I missed seeing your paintings.”

“Do you wanna see my favorite one?” Kit asked, bringing the huge canvas with him. “Behold Sherlock and Watson.”

Livvy snickered at the sight of Ty and Kit dressed as Victorian detectives. “It’s his best work, for sure.”

“I know, right?”

Livvy seemed to approve him enough. She was joyful and excited, running around and gawking at Ty’s art. Kit hoped that meant that, if he and Ty were to actually date, he would be acquainted and friendly with his twin. Movies always said that the most loved ones should like the protagonist’s partner.

He also hoped that Ty wanted to actually date him.

If anything, asking Kit to be his fake-boyfriend was a good way to start, wasn’t it? Kit supposed Ty wouldn’t do that if the notion of a relationship was impossible. It had to mean something.

The three of them eventually ordered the food, and, to Kit’s relief, there was no intrusive questionnaire by Livvy’s behalf.

She and Kit were just getting to know each other, from pop culture talk to telling embarrassing stories about high school. There was nothing to be worried about.

Livvy was being careful to leave out stories with Anush, Kit noticed. He didn’t know why, it wasn’t like he didn’t know about Anush’s existence, but he assumed Livvy was being mindful of jealousy. That wasn’t good, since it implied there was something to be jealous of.

At some point, both of them found out they had the same taste in music—electronic beats with severely auto-tuned voices. Livvy took out her phone and started showing Kit her favorite tunes and artists, even though he already knew most of them.

After Ty had made enough complaints about their ‘obvious’ lack of taste, both got down from the kitchen chairs and migrated to the living room, where Livvy put some song to play in her phone and took hold of Kit’s hands.

Under the yellow lights, they danced clumsily, swaying left and right to the beat of the cheesy song she had chosen. Kit had his eyes closed for the first seconds, but, after he opened them, he realized his mistake of ignoring the image in front of him.

Ty was watching both of them, his grey eyes shining with amusement and something else Kit couldn’t decipher.

Looking at him, Kit understood the impulse that artists had to draw beautiful things.

The slight smile he was wearing created an itch in Kit’s hands he had never felt before—grab the pencil, the pen, the charcoal. 

However, more than that, it was the moment that he threw his head back and laughed that made Kit’s ribs get flooded with something dripping from his quickly-beating heart.

 _Art_ , he thought. _Ty was absolute art_.

…

The following weeks passed like a good painting: fluid, light, and swift.

Ty had relaxed more around him. He didn’t know if it was because now he knew about the fake dating, or if Ty was getting more comfortable. He hoped it was the latter.

Kit had finally convinced him to watch BBC Sherlock. They watched half an episode every session—a full one would take too long, Ty had said.

In the second part of the first episode, Kit realized Ty would never shut up about inaccuracies and unnecessary changes unless there was a threat. 

So, they settled: for every complaint, Kit could paint a part of Ty’s face. Ty hated the feeling of paint on his skin, but not pointing out the show’s flaws was worse.

“—they had to bring another character. She didn’t exist in the books, she doesn’t need to exist on TV.”

“Sure, sure,” Kit laughed, squeezing the paint tube on his hand.

His face was already half orange, so he wanted something to stand out a bit more. Ty had once told him that blue and orange were complementary colors. Kit didn’t know what that meant, but he also didn’t really care.

“And I’m not sure if lying to Livvy is the right thing,” Ty suddenly said, as Kit drew his blue-painted finger away from his face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t think it’s right.”

Kit couldn’t understand what was happening. Ty had never demonstrated remorse on lying to his sister. Stress that she could find out, yes, but no remorse.

Had something changed? Kit hoped it was for the best. He hoped, in the darkest and unsafest part of his mind, that Ty wanted to break the fake relationship to start a real one.

“Will you tell her?”

“No.” Ty scrunched his face. “I’ll tell her that we broke up. That I don’t want to see you again. So I’ll never have to lie, because she won’t talk about it if she thinks I’m still hurt.”

Kit furrowed his eyebrows—was he angry? Sad? Confused? Maybe he was all three at once.

So Ty didn’t want a real relationship. He wanted not to see Kit ever again.

It made sense, really. The art exhibit was only a week away. Ty didn’t need him a muse anymore, he could as well just throw him in the trash.

Kit changed his expression to one completely devoid of feeling in a matter of seconds, statuesque and expressionless. He didn’t want Ty to truly see him.

“So you’ll also fake break up with me. And then we’ll never talk to each other again.”

“No, we don’t have to actually stop talking. Just in front of Livvy.”

Somehow, Kit’s face managed to become even more statue-like. “So I can still talk to you, sometimes, but no one can know.”

And there went all the prospects of them ever dating.

“Exactly.”

The air was heavy around them. Kit felt like he could cry.

“Okay, I get it.” Kit got up and stomped his way out of the apartment. “I’ll leave you alone now,” he said as he slammed the door shut behind him.

…

One week later, Kit wasn’t sure of what to do with himself. It was the art exhibit day, and he was completely hollow.

He imagined that was what if felt like for Ty when he had his art block. Hollow. Empty. Kit truly had nothing else to give.

The biggest reason for the holes in his soul was the guilt eating every damn part of it. He shouldn’t have been mad at Ty, he shouldn’t have stormed out.

It was well within Ty’s right not to like him back. He didn’t own anything to Kit. He never, ever, mentioned dating in a serious, true, non-fake way. It was all in Kit’s little delusional head.

His first impulse was to go to the exhibit and apologize. Apologize, and then ask Ty, pretty please, if they could still be friends. He valued Ty’s friendship way more than any stupid dreams about them getting together.

At second thought, he decided he shouldn't. It was Ty’s night, and he would only ruin it by being there. Jesus, Ty could only be angry with Kit for storming out and then ghosting him for a week. Plus, if Ty had actually followed up with his plan of telling Livvy they had broken up, he would ruin that too.

No, he decided. He couldn't go.

That was, of course, until he received a text from Livvy herself.

‘Sup Kit,’ her text read. ‘Tyty told me all about it. The fake dating I mean. U should come to the art ex. I think he would like that’

So Kit rushed to get his jacket.

…

Kit’s own face adorned every wall in his field of vision. There were other types of paintings, of course, but all of him were put together in the space Ty was staring at.

Every moment, every stroke and line and hue, every memory he had made with Ty was hung were everyone could see.

And Ty was right in front of it, looking the most nervous Kit had ever seen him.

Livvy was away, talking to some random girls. Ty’s hands were grasping his headphones tightly, and Kit could see from afar how he was repeating words to himself. His leg was bouncing up and down, sweat forming in his forehead.

Kit didn’t know much about soothing people but, when Ty winced because of the loud noise of a glass falling and breaking on the ground, he knew it would be better to take him out of the room. They ended up in an alley right behind the building, with Kit trying his best to remember what Livvy did to Ty to calm him down.

“It’s okay, Ty, it’ll all be okay,” he muttered as he rubbed Ty’s shoulders. Ty shrugged him off.

For what it felt like a long time, but was probably just a little more than a minute, Kit kept mumbling encouraging words and avoiding to touch Ty. Gradually, he seemed to come back to himself.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ty rasped.

Regret seeped into Kit’s heart again.

"Livvy texted me. She said I could come, but if you th—"

“Is it true?” Ty asked, out of breath. “Livvy told me you wanted to actually date me. Did you?”

Kit averted his gaze, looking at the floor. He didn’t really want to talk about it. “Look, Ty, I shouldn’t have—”

“Did you?” Ty repeated more forcefully.

Kit shrugged. “I thought— I thought we were going that path, yes. I thought it had started as a lie, but it would become real sometime. I was an asshole, though,” he added quickly. “I was angry when you said you didn’t want that, but it’s okay. You not liking me, I mean. That’s okay. I understand. I still want you to be my friend, though, if you—”

Ty pulled him close and pressed his lips to Kit’s.

He shut up instantly. His hands grabbed Ty’s hair, who still had his hands fluttering by his sides. Their lips moved softly against each other, gentle as a paintbrush dancing on paper.

Kit melted against him, sighing happily, and pulling him even closer than it was possible.

 _Art_ , he thought. _Kissing Ty was absolute art._

**Author's Note:**

> I gotta be honest, I'm not that happy with this one lol. It was originally supposed to be told from Ty's POV, but then I realized it completely sucked, and I wrote all over again from Kit's POV. Poor Livvy showed up at basically every scene, now she's only there in one, and Anush got completely cut out :( I hit many roadblocks, and I still feel like a lot of the scenes are a bit forced. Oh well, things can't always be perfect, and I swear the next one I'm much prouder of!
> 
> Drop some comments/kudos if you wanna make my heart beat a little faster :)  
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
